


Red Lips and Subtle Touches

by drymud



Category: Secret History - Donna Tartt
Genre: Alcohol, Domestic, F/F, Fluff, Pining, Pre-Bacchanal (Secret History), Sewing, Short, Short & Sweet, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:40:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23358646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drymud/pseuds/drymud
Summary: Hi, this is my first fanfic, so please leave feedback!
Relationships: Camilla Macaulay/Judy Poovey
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	Red Lips and Subtle Touches

Judy was sitting across from Camila, eyes hazy with smoke, rummaging through her various assortments of dried up nail-polish from middle school. 

Camila had knocked on her door around noon, requesting help with designing a costume of some sort, something for Greek class. Her tone was genuine and interested, far from all the 'elite-rich-greek-class' horror stories Judy’s fellow art majors told around the campfire. 

So, she invited her in, helped with the measurements, the sewing, and after two shared bottles of alcohol Judy had stolen from the downstairs fridge, they’d managed to make a knee-length rag of a dress. It wasn’t Judy’s proudest work, she would be the first to admit that, but the way Camila held up the finished product, the way she ran her fingers across the fabric and the way she rushed down the hall to try it on, made it one of her favorites. 

She’d never been particularly fond of Camila and the rest of her classmates. She didn’t like the way they always made themselves out to be better than others, she didn’t like the way they carried themselves, with their expensive cars and watches and general attitudes; but how could she say no to Camila? The Camila who would sit for hours, reading the same passage over and over again, just to understand its core meaning: the Camila who would always make sure to brush her delicate hand against yours, such a small gesture in retrospect, but still so intimate, because it was Camila. 

Judy was still looking for the perfect red, when Camila interrupted; she had to go. She left before Judy could protest, leaving her cross-legged on her bed, straining to hear every one of Camila’s characteristic shoe clicks, trying to determine the reasoning for her sudden exit. 

The whole evening had been a blur of red lips and blonde hair, subtle smiles and secret glances, attempted eye contact, weird tension, all consumed by the gradual intensity of the drunken haze Judy found herself in, sitting on her bed, listening, hoping for more.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is my first fanfic, so please leave feedback!


End file.
